


Watchdog

by bamf_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Castiel is pretty endvers-ish here, Criminal Castiel, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, It's not as dark as it seems, M/M, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamf_Castiel/pseuds/bamf_Castiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Universe is endless, mysterious, and apparently hates Dean Winchester with a passion.<br/>There is no other way he could end up with one serial killer wanting to end his life, and another one trying to save it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watchdog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, my first attempt at writing something long-ish. 
> 
> I owe ozonecologne a thousand thanks for helping me with editing this chapter.

“John Winchester,” the man said slowly. “Please forgive me, but I can’t say that I’m happy to see you.”  
  
The room was dark, the only source of light being the ugly yellow glow from the street lamps coming in through the windows. Castiel sat in an armchair, facing John, with a lit cigarette in his hand. The smoke curled lazily in the air, drifting up to the ceiling. He looked different from the last time John saw him; the man always wearing expensive dark suits and crisp white dress shirts was gone, replaced by someone who looked more like a scruffy yoga instructor than a businessman. It had been almost 8 years, after all.  
One thing was still the same, though. The arctic blue of his eyes, cold and sharp and never leaving whomever he was talking to. There was something in them, a dangerous glint that made you shiver, realizing that you are looking at someone who knows very well how to end your life.  
Castiel Novak was a beast clad in human skin and no matter how good he was at pretending that he wasn’t, the glow of his eyes always betrayed him.  
John took a deep breath. He was nervous, his hands were trembling, and he knew that the other man noticed. “Alistair escaped from prison.”  
Castiel hummed, tapping the ash off the cigarette.  
He didn’t look surprised.  
  
“So I’ve heard.” He figured this would be the reason John Winchester decided to pay him a visit in the middle of the night.  
The room was silent for few long seconds. It felt like hours.  
  
“You know what he’ll do to the guy that put him there in the first place?”  
  
“Oh, I can imagine.” Castiel was one of these few people who could say this and really mean it. He was familiar with Alistair’s work; he was an artist with twisted mind, with a blade as his brush and a body as canvas. A dangerously intelligent psychopath who mastered the art of torture.  
  
“You know where I’m going with this,” John said.  
  
Castiel knew. He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly, taking his time. Of course he knew. He breathed out the smoke, and broke eye contact for the first time since John stepped into that room to look at the ceiling. The other man couldn’t help but sigh with relief.  
  
“And I should risk everything, including my life, to help you because…?”  
(His everything contained mostly sleepless nights, drinking, bar fights, and drugs. Not exactly something he would miss, but John didn’t need to know that.)  
  
“You know why.”  
  
Castiel smiled, a bitter, small twist of lips. “Ah yes, my debt.” He looked at John again. So the day of payment finally had finally come, 8 years later.  
  
“So what, I have to hunt Alistair down before he gets to you? That’s what you want from me?”  
It wouldn’t be easy; this was Alistair they were talking about. Possible, of course, but it could take weeks.  
His cigarette ended its life with a hiss in the ashtray.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
_Ah._  
  
Castiel raised his eyebrows. Not the answer he expected. “No?”  
  
Lord, John couldn’t help but think, his eyes are almost shining, cold blue and inhuman. Maybe a little bit curious, too. He took a deep breath for the second time this evening, just to steady himself before he said what he needed to. What he came here to say in the first place. It wasn’t easy to ask someone like Novak to watch over his child. To place Dean’s life in a killer’s hands.  
But then again, it wasn’t like he had a choice.  
Castiel was the only person he knew that was skilled enough to stand up to Alistair, and he never, not once, broke his word. So if he would only agree…  
  
John swallowed. “I want you to watch over my son.”  
  
Castiel patiently waited for him to elaborate, tilting his head to the side.  
  
“Alistair called me the day he escaped.” He made a brief pause, shoving down the anger and fear that flared in his chest at the memory. “Said Dean is the price I’d have to pay for putting him behind bars. I’ll hunt him down, like I did before. You will make sure my son is safe. After everything, your debt will be paid. You will be free.”  
  
Castiel wanted to laugh. He will never be free, not really. “As I’m sure you are aware, I’m an ex-hitman, Detective. Not exactly the perfect choice for a nanny.”  
  
“Who would guard him from a killer better than another one?”  
  
Castiel sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He doubted it would end well, but a debt is a debt, and he always pays his.  
“Alright, Detective Winchester. If this is what you want, then I’ll watch over your son. I will do everything to keep him safe. You have my word.”  
  
For the first time since Alistair escaped, John felt like he could breathe again.

 

Castiel met Dean two days later, and he wasn’t what he expected him to be.  
For the first time in years he had his suit and the long, black trench coat on. His skin itched, and everything felt too stiff after so much time of wearing almost only soft, old t-shirts and hoodies. But he had a job to do, which meant that he had to look - ah, presentable.  
He stood in the kitchen, watching John and Dean argue. Dean was young, beautiful, very scared and very, very angry.  
Which was understandable, of course, considering the fact that he just found out what was really going on.  
  
“…So what, you trust this guy so much that you’re going to make him our very own guardian angel?”  
  
Castiel couldn’t help but snort at that, which made both Winchesters stop and look at him.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Dean hissed, addressing him directly for the first time since they met, with a voice that was almost as cold as his eyes. He wanted to tell him, to ask if he knew many years had passed since anyone called him an angel. With the current lifestyle he was as far from being anything divine as he could get.  
  
“Watchdog,” Castiel almost purred instead, voice deep and rough.  
  
“Excuse me? “ Dean blinked, confused.  
  
“I’m more of a watchdog than an angel, really.” He leaned slightly forward, closer to Dean, watching with some kind of amusement how the young man fought the urge to step back.   
He didn’t, in the end – only gritted his teeth and looked him straight in the eyes, challenging and proud. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at that; it wasn’t something that happened often. “And you, Dean, are the one holding the leash.”  
  
A “watchdog,” this man called himself that evening, standing in Dean’s kitchen, in his personal space, sharp blue eyes never leaving Dean’s own.  
  
It was a lie.

Dean was watching TV in living room when John came back home, inviting a stranger inside with him. The man that walked in was definitely handsome: tall, clad in a long black trench coat and expensive looking suit, with dark stubble and disheveled hair, strong jawline and piercing blue eyes.  
Just looking at him made all Dean’s muscles tense. Every instinct was screaming for him to run.   
There was just something unsettling in the way he moved, how he seemed to be perfectly still and restless at the same time. How something wild and untamed was shimmering just beneath the endless blue depths of his eyes.  
  
Dean got it, right then, when the stranger walked through the door. This man was a wolf.  
  
John didn’t go into much detail when he introduced him to Dean. All he said was a short, “This is Castiel Novak, I know him from work, he’s going to help us.”  
Then again, it’s not like he had to for Dean to get that ‘I know him from work’ meant ‘it’s someone I was supposed to put away,’ not ‘he’s a police officer like me.’  
That’s why Dean had been so angry; John led a wolf to their door and let him walk into their home, like he had forgotten that Sammy was living there, too.  
He thought about all of this, lying in his bed, maybe an hour after the conversation they had in the kitchen. Fuck, it’s not that he didn’t trust his father; of course he did. But there was a psychopath out there who wanted to get him, and probably another one sitting right now in the living room who was supposed to protect him.  
And there was Sam, who still didn’t know about any of this, and yet was still in the middle of everything.  
  
Dean groaned, hiding his face in hands.  
  
He had to have pissed off some seriously powerful gods at some point in his life, since there was absolutely no other way to explain what was happening right now. He didn’t know what to think about all of this.  
Dean took a deep breath, one, two, to calm himself.  
  
“I won’t say that everything is going to be all right,” said a deep voice somewhere from the door and Dean jumped, startled. Castiel was watching him, leaning against the doorframe, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other playing with a lighter. There were deep shadows under his eyes. He frowned. “I’m almost positive it won’t be, to be honest ”  
  
Oh yes, that definitely made Dean feel a lot better.  
  
No one said anything for a moment, and it was Dean who decided to break the silence, slowly sitting up.  
  
“What do you want?” he almost barked, hands clenched in fists, eying the man warily. Without his father’s presence he felt even more uneasy, the room suddenly way too small. He wanted to run away, and it was ridiculous really. He knew how to fight and he was at least as big as Castiel was, young and strong. There was a gun in his bedside cabinet top drawer. Hell, his father was home. He wasn’t helpless.  
And yet, he couldn’t help but feel like prey standing in front of a predator.  
  
The man huffed.  
  
“Nothing.” His eyes narrowed a little. “I just want you to be aware of the situation you are in. It will make it easier to cooperate.“ Castiel pushed himself from the doorframe, the movement fluid and smooth.  
  
“You don’t like me,” he said, “And you don’t trust me. Which is both understandable and wise - after all, we’ve just met, and the circumstances are not the best. I honestly doubt it will change with time, but that’s okay. You don’t have to, even if it would make everything a little easier, considering that I will be a somewhat constant presence in your life from now on.”  
  
The man stepped into the room, and Dean tensed.  
  
“All that I ask for you to do, Dean, is to trust your father’s judgment on my skills. Like I’ve said, I can’t promise you that everything is going to be okay. But I can tell you that I’m very good at what I do.” Castiel’s voice dropped a little lower, his eyes shining in the low light of Dean’s bedside lamp. “And Alistair might be good too, but believe me, he will have to try really, really hard to get to you.”  
  
Dean’s mouth was suddenly dry. For some reason, he didn’t doubt Castiel’s words.  
  
For the next few long seconds Castiel just stood there, his whole attention focused on Dean. He’d never had a problem with maintaining eye contact, or with being the object of someone’s attention before, but with this man, it was something different. Dean could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He had a feeling that Castiel’s gaze was tearing away every kind of barrier he’d carefully put between himself and the world over the years like it was nothing. Stripping him down, layer after layer, clothes, skin and flesh, methodically down to nothing but bones and dust.  
Castiel was studying him. With cold, clinical interest, like Dean was some kind of interesting little insect that he’d never seen before.   
And no matter how badly Dean wanted to look away, he couldn’t. He watched the other man watch him in silence, not daring to move, finding it hard to even breathe. In the dim light Castiel didn’t look like he stood in the shadows. He looked like he was simply a part of them.  
And then Castiel moved, just a deeper exhale, making his shoulders relax, and the moment was gone.  
  
“We will have to discuss the details, of course, but we can do that tomorrow.” He looked a little bit uncertain before he added, “You might need some time to … comprehend everything what’s going on. I understand that being in a situation like this is completely new to you.”  
  
He sounded like the whole concept of needing time to digest the fact that a sadistic psychopath wanting to kill him was weird.  
  
“Uh, yeah, no shit. “ Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t think one night will be enough, though.”  
  
“I’m afraid that’s all I can give you,” Castiel hummed, tilting his head slightly to the side. “It took your father three days to find me; and almost two for me to take care of everything I needed to and get here. Alistair is not someone who would rush things; he’s patient, and it definitely would be unwise to make a move now. He’s knows this as well as I do. But that doesn’t mean that he will waste time – there are a lot of things you can do in five days,” he said cryptically.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
Castiel looked at him thoughtfully before he finally shook his head and spoke. “Not tonight. Go to sleep, Dean.”  
  
Like that was even an option after everything that happened today.  
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because after a moment Castiel added, voice almost soft, “Well, at least try to. Goodnight.“  
Dean watched as the man turned around and left his room, not waiting for an answer. All the tension slowly left his body.

A “watchdog” the man called himself, and then told Dean that he was the one holding the leash. But it wasn’t that easy.  
You can put a collar on a wolf, but that isn’t going to magically change its nature.  
There are just some kinds of animals you will never be able to tame.  
  
Castiel Novak was one of them.


End file.
